“I’m on a Boat!”: Occupy Oakland Navigates in Unknown Waters

A weird energy enveloped the plaza on the last night of Occupy Oakland 2.0. The infrastructure of the community was quickly deconstructing, for one thing. The kitchen had been partially dismantled to save key components for the future. Largely abandoned, it had stopped serving food. Police foot patrols were symbolically inching their way toward the camp, parking cars on the north side of the plaza, walking a beat in a tight band around the perimeter. More than that, I personally felt a strange disconnect; I described the sensation to someone as a sort of Babel effect. Everyone seemed to be missing each other—though I stress that was just my experience.

Partly to escape the disjointed transformation, I volunteered for a cop-watch run on my bike to see if police were massing anywhere in the vicinity. But when I returned, everyone at the camp already knew that the police were ready to go at the Coliseum—it was being twittered left and right, there was live video of it on youtube. I had wasted my time; in any case, I knew the cops had massed at Coliseum last time and they were likely to again. Really, many of us were sort of milling around for a majority of the late night, not sure what we should be doing, or how we should be thinking about the future of the camp and the movement. Even a party billed as “Occupacolypse” had fizzled earlier.

I’m on a boat

But things changed as the night wore on into Monday’s early morning. “I’m on a boat”—the odd call and response meme that had emerged a few nights earlier—seems to best characterize the dynamic. There’s not too much to the “I’m on a Boat” phenomenon–every few minutes, like a geyser, someone in the crowd yells out the phrase, and here and there, ten feet away or around the corner, someone else cries out, “I’m on a boat” to the confusion of everyone not in on the joke.

Though admittedly senseless, the term and its dynamic crystallized for me the Occupy Oakland experience. Here, people begin doing things collectively, sometimes those things seem to have one set of meanings and associations, or they don’t seem to make any sense at all; little by little, they create their own meanings, ways of looking at things that hadn’t existed before. They become important because no one sought to route them into familiar and secure terrain, because they emerged organically. What’s created is new, perhaps not immediately recognizable to outsiders to the process–and so that much more powerful.

As the night wore on, and it became clear that the police would raid, people seemed to collect around the north end of the park. I found this also to be particularly representative of Occupy Oakland’s dynamic. The amphitheatre, which houses the General Assembly, was abandoned, dark and cold. People had gathered at this end, close to the relocated library, because that’s where a set of flood lights had been set up; there was music, banter, life.

An impromptu human mic check began and people finally started throwing out ideas and suggestions for how to deal with what was to come. Keep in mind that this all took less than half an hour. In that time, the entire debate of “property destruction” versus “non-violent civil disobedience” was resolved to a great extent by several decisions accepted collectively. In the first place, from past experience, campers knew that it would be impossible to actually defend the camp in any more but the most symbolic fashion. The interfaith tent, for example, had planned a night of civil disobedience and to be arrested during the destruction of the camp. Given that such action would be symbolic, those who wanted to engage in other types of actions were urged to do so in groups at the intersection of 14th and Broadway.

A proposal which had a similar idea of separation of “time and space” when discussing tactics, failed hours earlier. But now the concepts embedded within it were accepted without trouble by people on both sides of the argument. From a flagging set of disjointed groups, the camp united again with purpose—medics and new medic volunteers began passing out vinegar laden masks, and little bags of vinegar, to cut tear gas, if used. Veteran advice was human-micked, along with expressions of solidarity, support, and even love. People embraced; and though there was a feeling of tragic loss in the air, and the great question of whether we could overcome this and continue remained, it wasn’t a funeral, but a wake.

Some union members made good on their promise to support the camp, perhaps a hundred or so defenders came out at about two or so in the morning. A picket, which continued in one form or another until the early morning, ensued. But like almost everything about Occupy Oakland, things did not proceed as envisioned. The police had been tamed, their brutality kept in check—their humiliating and costly exposure as violent, ugly bullies forced the city to tamp down their response. Ironically, the police response to Occupy Oakland on Monday morning stood in stark contrast to the brutal repression experienced by others throughout the coordinated four-day weekend of attacks nationwide.

As the police cordon broke in the early morning hours, and the picket and protests on 14th and Broadway thinned, I headed home, exhausted and not particularly enthused about the future. As per usual, the call had been made to regroup in front of the library at 4pm, and I did so again with just a few hours sleep.

Through its conduit of local media, police had warned that they would be out in full force, but that means something quite different this week than it did two weeks ago.When the new group of campers and their allies left the library rally to march back up fourteenth street and return to the plaza, police stayed out of the way. Two lonely-looking police officials walked briskly in front of the crowd—really, it looked like they were trying to get out of the way more often than not, staying ahead of a group that made it clear they neither feared, nor respected their authority.

Evicted on Monday Morning, Headed Back to Plaza on Monday Evening

Just like last time, the GA was reconvened, and the message was sent that Occupy Oakland was back in business. Actions were planned for Saturday, November 19. But the question of “what next” remained.

The Boat Sails

After the first destruction of the camp, I predicted that it would not grow back, which seems pretty dumb in retrospect. So I’ll not make any grand predictions this time around. It does seem daunting, though. Packs of police are guarding the plaza day and night, the city is regular hosing down the field area and amphitheatre, so that it provides an inhospitable terrain for reforming the community. But there were many stalwart campers who had never given up and continued to make plans. I ran into Shake early Monday morning, and he was already making a pretty good case for an alpha site at 19th and Telegraph. Indeed, he and two others presented it as a proposal at last night’s GA designed to take the energy of Saturday’s action and transfer it to occupying the new camp-site. It passed overwhelmingly.

But that’s not the end of things. Discussion has evolved over the past days—hours, really. There are many ideas of how OO should reconstitute and grow. It has been re-envisioned as a running multitude of occupations; from building to shut-down public building; plaza to park; as a roaming herd of occupiers taking over streets on their way fortify other occupations; and even, an admittedly difficult retaking of the plaza. Some of these ideas, like hit-and-run occupations at key sites, have already emerged. Bank of America was briefly occupied yesterday, and a tent was even pitched. And there are others, like Running Wolf, a camp fixture, who, rather than give up the occupation, climbed a tree, made a platform and continued to Occupy Oakland in a tree-sit where he remains as of this writing. As always, no one is lying in wait for some nebulous authority to approve. They’ve gone ahead and begun to work.

To me, this course-multitude only highlights Occupy Oakland’s most important role as a referendum on what is politically possible—one that continues to include an increasingly vast network of participants every day. No one thought the camp would come back two weeks ago; it did and then created the most decisively victorious political assembly and action in recent history seven days later. What comes next over the horizon is truly anyone’s guess.

So, as with many evolutions of the last thirty days, though the “I’m on a Boat” meming may have started out as an act of stress-relieving nonsense, relayed from one participant to another and echoed by bemused on-lookers [like me], it has nevertheless become a useful metaphor for the Occupy Oakland movement as it enters its second month of life. Navigating treacherous waters as if the city streets and institutions were an uncharted ocean, OO continues to sail, despite hull-breaches and storms, etching a new social and political map of Oakland and the world along the way.

–and yes, I know that the ‘I’m on a Boat’ thing is from a Saturday Night Live skit. I still have no idea how its come to be an echo, bouncing from node to node at the General Assembly and plaza. Anyone is free to add its origin in that regard to the historical record in my comments section.

Don’t laugh about boats. At Occupy Portland today, the usual masses of riot geared cops, cycle cops, and regular cops were joined by, I’m not making this up, boats. Two of them. They weren’t fishing, although an especially charming kid with a bullhorn suggested they ought to.
Congrats on some well-deserved props you got from Greenwald today; you’ve been doing yeoman’s work.

Thanks for your work, that was an informative perspective.
As an aside, I note that Lulzsec/Anonymous refers to groups or individuals as ‘vessels’ and uses naval metaphors. Maybe it’s an example of memes crossing group boundaries, or maybe it’s just a parody of greed like the music video. 🙂

I hate when you’re in the middle of writing and a slip of the finger on your phone sends the message early.
As I was saying…… I was starting to think about the comments on FB from people who are my age(43) and my response to them. The first answer that came to mind was that it’s the chickens come home to roost (in a bad way, a response to greed, corruption in the system.) I was growing more frustrated thinking about all the reasons why Occupy is important that these people seemed to be blind to. I then shifted my thoughts to a younger cousin from NY, and all her organizing\protesting she’s been doing for the 10 years of her adult life. I started to feel better because I realized her chickens were coming home to roost too (in a good way.) Even though some of the FB folks didn’t get it. I’ve had the privledge to visit Occupy camps in SF, NY, and Oakland and I knew that the tangible goal that was already achieved, was that the world was moving in the right direction.
Then I checked my phone for updates and I saw the text with the link to your posting, and when I saw the name of your blog, I got a good belly laugh. And when I read your post, I felt really good that someone had put some words down that reasonated with how I was feeling. Thank you and Go On With Your Bad Self, and keep on keeping on.
H.

I could have explained this better. but to be clear, the issue was resolved for those in that group, not in any formal declaration. What was resolved in my view was the debate about whether inserting a “time and space” idea in diversity of tactics was somehow capitulating to the idea of property destruction being violence, and other activities being non-violence, and whether or not people should do whatever they want at an action, regardless of what a larger group thinks. The ease with which people accepted this as the functional dynamic for the night, leads me to believe that a lot of these issues were resolved for the people there that night, and they also happen to be the core of the community as they were the last one’s there that night.

That’s a really nice article, really well written, first time I’ve felt empathy for anyone associated with Occupy in a while!
I do think it’s interesting that there is barely a mention of the goals of the Movement, just talk about what’s next for the Movement. Seems like a metaphor-the Movement itself seems more important than any message once associated with it. A shame, as I really like the original message, but am not a huge fan of what the Movement became!
Begging you guys not to camp at 19th & Telegraph! A lot of people have put years of their time and love into turning this neighborhood around, it is not a 1% neighborhood, but instead a very diverse and dynamic area with a school, low income housing, and grassroots businesses. But it is still very fragile, and will really be hurt if Occupy brings the type of activities that were evident in Frank Ogawa. PLEASE don’t do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Otherwise, I really hope that you and Occupy come up with some creative and constructive outlets for your energy and ideas. As much as I disapprove of a lot of what the Occupation became, I love and respect most of the people and ideas involved!!!!
Best, B

Im on a boat came from, more or less, from a couch that was covered with a tarp that was used (mostly for smoking and drinking) by the more ‘hippy’, ‘street kid’, ‘jugglo’, types. It somehow became the boat. Thats where it came from, but the reason it caught on was of a feeling that we are all in the same boat. Also, in a ken kesey ‘on the bus’ kind of way.

I started the boat! I swear on the occupation. You see it all started a day before I arrived at the camp, Nov. 1st. I am from SF but decided to go down to Long Beach to try a new job a couple months ago. The job was just me and the boss all day, he on the phone talking to his girlfriend while I built ovens bigger then my old apartment for the plastic industry. My job before that was as a mover and had my own moving collective that I made possible with my Sprinter van. Unfortunately the day I arrived for my new job in Long Beach I got into an accident on the 405 and my van is only coming out of the shop here in the next couple days. This accident made me dependent on the boss as I could not return to my old job until it was fixed. Nor could I sleep in it while I was down there. Instead I had to sleep on my boss’ sailboat with him. Anyhow, my boss got hella frusterated one day becuase he had been fucking around for the last 6 months and decided to take it out on me. I told him ” I dont need to hear this, if you dont like my job performance then why dont you just fire me”. He says” you wanna be fired, fine your fired.Go back to Oakland and be a dickhead and get the fuck off my boat!” So I grabbed a crazy kid from Long Beach that had also been fired by my boss a day prior, and we hopped on the Greyhound with our pay and left for Oakland. Now the boss is trying to hire me back.
We arrived the day of the Generl Strike at 5 Am and stayed at the music making section on a bench all day drinking 40’s and waving our big protest sign around. One said Fuck You! and the other said ” hey fuck this guy!” with an arrow pointing down at anyone under it.
By the second day at the music circle all I could contribute was “I’m on a boat”. I screamed this over and over until it caught on. Homies on the street would come in all evening and rap ussually starting off with I’m on a boat motherfucker. The General Assembly would come over durring the meetings and ask us to keep it down. We would tell them to fuck off, some poeple threatened to kick thier asses if they asked again cuase we were on a motherfucking boat you know. Dont rock our boat!
Before I knew it everyone staying in the camp was screaming “I’m on a boat” and “boat check!. The hippies named the new tent town the boat. The last guy to get arrested durring the raid was sleeping in the boat. The news kept showing this guy being woken up, handcuffed and dragged through the mud screaming “I’m on a boat bitches”!
You might have met me. I was the resident librarian. I eventually rallied a group together and moved the library over to the sidewalk. It was the first place that the cops tore down. I got off that boat just seconds before they tore it down. We still had a joint to smoke so we just hung out till cops raided, then we just drifted around and watched them fuck up our boats.
My name is Chris Kendrick and I started the boat. I also started the response to I’m on a boat with I’m on your mom. My favorite boat was when people would be all serious on the mic at the GA and someone would yell I’m on aboat and I dont know how many times I heard it but the speaker would say every time in mid sentence ” and I am to also on a boat”.
99% are on the boat, 1% are on the plane.

I’m 36 and I have a 16 year old son. He was at the camp. The way I would find him was by screaming “I’m on a boat”. He would reply “I’m on a buoy!” My son was running the info booth for a couple days, so he knows whats up. He’s on the boat. This boat is as real as it gets.